


Go to Sleep

by FrozenPenguin



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Family, Pre-Horror, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:30:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6227599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrozenPenguin/pseuds/FrozenPenguin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Then she hears the front door clicking open. A moment later, Lee’s voice calls out softly from the hallway, announcing he’s home and Michelle’s heart stops.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Go to Sleep

It is a sunny Saturday afternoon, a rarity for London in January, and Michelle Unwin is very, very tired. Time has not been idle; it has already been four whole months since she was waddling around the flat with a full, pregnant belly, exhausted and anxious from waiting to give birth to little Gary Unwin.

For being so little, Gary had not wasted a moment before announcing himself to be in possession of a set of two very capable lungs. While he was a darling during the daylight hours when friends and family were popping by to deliver their congratulations, remaining amendable or even fast asleep as he was passed back and forth between curious hands, he has also revealed in the following few weeks a proclivity for rather loud nocturnal adventures.

Indeed, little Gary has proven to be quite the challenge for two so very new and inexperienced parents. They cannot see themselves affording day-care anytime soon, and with Lee doing his very best to support their little family by working an extra part-time job, most of the lively activities in the early hours of the morning are handled by Michelle.

The night prior had been no different, and Gary’s performance had started as early as 2 AM and continued until the glorious hour of 5 AM before finally hushing to give way for sleep. No amount of warm bottles or lullabies, or sung pleas of “Go to sleep, my dear, _please_ go to sleep,” could bring the boy to stop for more than a minute or two, which was certainly only to catch his breath before he was once again crying out. Had she not known better, Michelle would swear the little boy was doing it completely on purpose. Surely, had her old Nan been alive to meet the babe she would in a moment claim him tormented by nightly visits from spirits—a laughable proposal, although her son’s clockwork-like tendencies every other night could nigh convince her of it.

Lee had returned home at 6 o’clock from work in the city to find them both knocked-out on the sofa, exhausted. He had made his wife comfortable with a blanket and a soft pillow, and laid his son in his cradle with a gentle kiss to his soft forehead. Lee had slept for just four hours, until half ten, and had then roused to cook up a fine breakfast for, in his eyes, his beautiful wife who was working so hard and patiently to raise their child, the single thing he loves more than her.

The rest of the day had been perfect, all things considered, with Gary sleeping through most of it and only waking once for a meal before dozing off again. They had spent the day mostly inside, cuddled up in the living room and admiring their little boy cradled in their arms, laughing when his face scrunched up with a sneeze, and cooing when the baby yawned or blinked his unfocused eyes open for a short moment.

After noon, they had gone for a short stroll to enjoy a lick of sunshine before the forecasted rain showers would set in Sunday morning.

Only now, hours later, Michelle realises how tired and sleep deprived she is, and how many chores she has yet to finish before Lee goes to work that night. Clearly seeing his wife’s distress, Lee offers to take some weight off her shoulders and run her errands in the shops so that she can take another nap with the baby.

Michelle protests at first, but it’s a half-hearted attempt, which she recedes with little persuasion, and she is already floating away into sleep, tucked under her warm duvet, when she hears the front door click shut.

She must have been out for scarcely a half hour when the soft beeping of the baby monitor wakes her up. So when Gary starts whining, she spends another minute lying flat against the mattress, drained and bubbling with frustration, listening to his distorted cries through the radio of the baby monitor and willing them to stop.

They don’t.

“Oh, Gary,” she sighs, exasperated, and is just about to throw her warm, comfortable duvet aside and get up to perform her motherly duties when she hears footsteps and rustling from the monitor, and then her darling Lee, her wonderful, kind Lee, singing softly to the boy.

“Go to sleep, go to sleep my dear…”

With a relieved hum, she falls back into her pillow, smiling with fondness as the soft notes continue flowing from the monitor. She imagines the scene of her husband lovingly swaying back and forth with their child in his arms, pacifying the crying babe with his hushed, gentle voice. It is a blessing, how little Gary’s crying recedes into happy blubbering and squeals of laughter; for a passing moment, she thinks it odd how quickly Lee has calmed him, wondering just how he has gone and done it.

Then she hears the front door clicking open. A moment later, Lee’s voice calls out softly from the hallway, announcing he’s home and Michelle’s heart stops.

She sits up, disbelieving; she still hears singing over the monitor. But it isn’t Lee. It _cannot_ be Lee.

Her throat clogs up with a choked scream, and she leaps out of bed and hurries out the door, finding Lee by the refrigerator, putting away the milk. Seeing him there, _and_ _not in Gary’s room_ , she shakes even harder, throat going dry and eyes watering as the fear strikes her even deeper.

“Michelle. Michelle, what’s wrong,” she hears Lee ask as he shuts the door of the refrigerator, and she trembles as he comes close to her.

“I heard someone—” she chokes out the words, as if afraid to say them out loud, high-pitched and barely audible. “There is, s-someone is, in his room—singing—in Gary’s room.”

As if hearing the words breaks the spell over her, she abruptly turns and sprints down the hall, her instinct screaming at her to find and protect her baby; behind her, she hears Lee cursing and sprinting right behind her. Heart hammering in her chest, it winds up tightly as she violently pushed the door open, anticipating what she will see on the other side.

They rush into the room, and find it completely quiet, and empty.

Michelle feels her stomach drop like a heavy stone as Lee inches past her, slowly nearing the little cradle. She follows him reluctantly, wanting to see but fearing what she might discover. Lee bends down, and carefully lifts the blankets away; underneath lies little Gary. He is fast asleep.

“Oh,” Michelle breathes. “Oh, thank God.”

“Are you sure you heard someone?” Lee asks, carefully walking around and surveying the room, looking for anything out of place.

“Yes, of course! There was a man—I thought it was you, singing the lullaby I always sing him… but then you came in. Oh God, I was so scared.”

Lee hums as he finishes checking the closet, and makes sure the window is closed and locked. He huffs in defeat, turning to his still trembling wife with reassuring, calming hands on her shoulders. “You’ve been absolutely knackered for weeks now, you was probably dreaming. There was nobody in here.”

Michelle bites her cheek not to reply that, no, she had indeed not been dreaming, because Gary’s crying has never failed to wake her before, and she knows she was awake when she decided to go to him.

Instead, she reluctantly agrees that yes, she’s been tired, and she must have imagined hearing Lee singing to their son. But while the excitement of the mystery is out of the way, the feeling of unease still lingers in her steps as the couple leaves the room to prepare for dinner, and will continue to linger for the coming few weeks. In his cradle, little Gary is still fast asleep, his little fist clutched tight beside his head, and for the next hour, whenever he stirs, a hand reaches out from under the dark of cradle, rocking it gently as a voice hums softly, “Go to sleep, go to sleep my dear.”

**Author's Note:**

> So I was thinking about this [prompt](http://dark-kingsman-block-party.tumblr.com/post/139510926778/prompt-friends-with-the-monster-under-the-bed) and thought "Well, how long has the monster under Eggsy’s bed been in his life?"
> 
> My answer: a very long time.
> 
> (If you want to talk, I have a [tumblr](http://stupid-fat-penguin.tumblr.com/) and will also be in the block party chat this week!)


End file.
